Charlemagne
by The Zazu
Summary: “At the end of the game, the king and the pawn go back in the same box.” The king had been brutally destroyed and it was time to find an extraordinary replacement to rebuild the fractured troops. And everyone knew this task was harder than it seemed.


**Charlemagne  
**_Chapter One: Burial  
_"At the end of the game, the king and the pawn go back in the same box."  
- _Italian Proverb_

_It's over_. The single thought ricocheted within every mind as the year 1998 began. So much bloodshed had commenced within the last year and Death spared no one on either side. Britain had been alone, severing its already fragile ties with countries that were once allies. When the infamous Harry Potter and his friends, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, vanquished the Dark Lord halfway through their seventh year, sighs of relief washed through the tense Wizarding World. Many had been brutally murdered, and in the end, thousands upon thousands of witches and wizards laid side by side in the ground. Death was the only force that had the power to unite all, as morbid as it seemed.

Death enjoyed irony, just as Life enjoyed surprises. Death united, just as Life separated. Every so often, the two forces would collaborate. Within the first year of the war, the biggest surprise was unveiled to the living. The bodies of Lucius Malfoy and Percy Ignatius Weasley had been buried next to one another. This effectively stifled the Malfoy-Weasley battle. And thus Death united all that it touched.

Albus Dumbledore felt a small smile quirk at the edges of his mouth at the remembrance of the event. The Hogwarts Headmaster was a crafty man, far for senility. The Weasleys and the remaining Malfoys knew little about Dumbledore's role in the burial. _Better off that way,_ the wizened Headmaster thought, his cerulean eyes sparkling merrily. Abruptly the man wiped the smile off his face and instead stared determinedly ahead. Though he was feeling quite cheerful at the moment, he felt smiling wasn't proper for the task at hand. Dumbledore slid his hands into the pockets of his black robes, only worn when participating actively with the Wizengamot. Yes, he was here on work, and on serious work at that.

Dark clouds overwhelmed the sky, threatening to unleash a furious flurry of snow. A chilly breeze rattled through the trees, letting loose an unsettling, Dementor-like rasp into the air. The firm look on Albus' face hardened imperceptibly as he unsheathed his slender wand from his sleeve. It was time to work. Dumbledore had many brushes with death, enough to keep him continuously wary. However, it wasn't often he affiliated himself with it to carry out a deed.

A large block of smooth stone – perhaps granite or marble – sat to his right. In front of him lay a patch fresh earth, patted down firmly. The rich, black soil was a stark contrast to the pale, unfeeling snow surrounding it. Half of his work was complete. To Dumbledore's left was another smooth stone with carefully carved script engraved on its surface. _Marianna Gavroski. 1954-1992. A loving mother, a loving wife._ Albus felt his heart go out toward the woman's family, though he did not even know them. Dumbledore bit back a small smile as he mused Death's irony.

A Minister of Magic was to be buried in a mere Muggle cemetery.

Albus broke from his strain of thought and swept his wand into a series of intricate patterns. A _Silencio_ here, a _Protego_ there... The man moved swiftly with his wand. He resembled a conductor with a baton as he worked. As the many wards were set up, Albus let his mind wander.

The old man stroked his lengthy beard as he heaved a soft sigh, letting his breath cloud in the air. Cornelius Fudge had been a foolish man in his late years. Regardless, Albus had been determined to give his counsel to Cornelius when he needed it most. Dumbledore had done this primarily out of pity for the man and concern for the future of the Wizarding World. Since the start of the first term of 1997, Albus had received a steady stream of owls from the Ministry, dictating a new statute or warning every day. In Minerva's words, it was "preposterous!" In November, the flow of letters had suddenly stopped.

Cornelius Fudge had disappeared.

Such an occurrence had immediately piqued the Headmaster's interest. Amelia Bones had quickly stepped in as Britain's Interim Minister of Magic and pushed many reforms through that assisted the Order. Good, yes, but the mystery still remained: where was Cornelius Fudge? All standard Tracking Spells had been dutifully performed. After the most powerful of these spells failed to find the former Minister, the case was given up. There were more problems to contend with, mainly Voldemort. Dumbledore had not been satisfied and quickly discovered the spell Voldemort used to track his Death Eaters. The spell brought results a month later. Fudge had been killed cleaned with an Avada Kevadra whose signature clearly belonged to Voldemort. Finally, the foolish British Minister had paid his price.

This was what brought Albus Dumbledore into a Muggle cemetery within the barren lands of Bulgaria, a country whom Britain had brittle relations with. Once again, a small smile crossed the wizened man's face. Oh, the irony of it all. Sending a cursory, yet unneeded, glance around him, Dumbledore flicked his wand at the stone. Almost instantly, the block of stone was chiseled away. As this task began, the man stood back solemnly, surveying his secret.

No one needed to know. It was of utmost importance. What an uproar it would cause in Britain. Precious time that could be used for rehabilitation would be wasted. Overall, the most unwise course. Dumbledore cast a critical glance at his work. The carved tombstone was not flashy, but it was elegant. _C. Fudge. 1998. He will always remain in our thoughts. _It would do. "_Wingardium Leviosa_," Dumbledore murmured with a swish and flick of his wand. The stone levitated and was gently placed upon the fresh earth.

Dumbledore began to gloss over Fudge's regime, his tone somber. "He severed ties with Bulgaria, India, Pakistan, and Japan. He refused to assist France, Russia, and Brazil when they were amidst civil wars. Cornelius refused assistance from the United States, Egypt, and China during the War." Suddenly Albus felt his actual hundred and fifty some years. Cornelius Fudge had left Britain shattered and created an animosity between itself and countries that had once were, or on the way to being, strong allies. Everything was ruined. Hogwarts' Headmaster shut his eyes, letting his long beard flutter in the chilly Bulgarian wind. The Wizengamot had appointed him the one to give answers. 'Who is to be the Minister?' the public questioned. This always left Dumbledore speechless.

Wearily, Albus Dumbledore finished his sentence, "I hope you understand the turmoil you have caused Cornelius. Rest in peace."

And thus said, Britain's Former Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, was buried on January 1st, 1998.

-

**Author's Note**: I was going to post this sooner, but I wanted to get more of the second chapter before I started. Tiger Lily and Charlemagne are my precious fics now. J It feels good to be writing something a bit original, y'know?

A bit of a dry chapter. I needed a solid base to push the fic off from... Hopefully it contained _some _intrigue. Big thanks to my beta for this chapter, LittleKnux2008. She is a super cool person and writer.

Charlemagne, the man who united much of the old Roman Empire, was inspiration for this story. The second chapter is somewhat of a filler chapter, bringing in certain, vital character(s). The third chapter will reveal why Dumbledore makes the decision and who his choice is. ;) Most of the story revolves around the trials and tribulations ofBritain's new Minister of Magic. Remus Lupin hopefully will be an important character, as well as Draco Malfoy. Harry, I'm not sure of... but his fame will definitely come in handy later on. Dumbledore is obviously important to the story.

Question: do you all think this should be classified as AU?

Like? Dislike? Reviews are _lovely_. ;)


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